Emil ate a mouthful of the salmon, his stony expression reflecting the deadening of his senses, as around him, the conversation steadily died. Even Nina was unable to sustain a lively repartee in the face of his implacable quiet. Pretence was impossible. They all knew the moment was upon them. All he wanted was to talk.

Emil dropped his fork with a clatter, onto the plate as, beside him, Hanna flinched. Jumpy. ‘Max, I owe you an apology.’

Max stopped eating, his fork poised in mid-air. It wasn’t the statement any of them had been expecting.

‘Yes, I’m truly sorry if my recent . . . woes have proved troublesome for you. I expect you must have been somewhat disquieted with Hanna staying here over the weekend. Playing nurse to me.’

It was the first shot, whistling through the silence like a cannonball on the dawn battlefield. Nina sighed and reached for her drink.

Max looked back at him, steadily. ‘Not at all. Hanna’s a great nurse. I’m glad she was able to help.’ He placed the forkful in his mouth, but Bell was certain he wasn’t tasting his food any more either. His skin was looking almost grey with the stress.

A small smile played on Emil’s lips. ‘Oh yes. She was a great . . . a really great . . . help.’ He glanced over at Hanna as the stress landed on the innuendo; she wasn’t even attempting to eat, staring at him with a horrified plea in her eyes, a dawning realization that she had no control over this situation after all. She was out of time . . .

‘Emil –’ she whispered, but Emil’s attention was already back on Max.

Max continued to chew, but more slowly now. He looked over at Bell. ‘If the children have finished eating, they can go off to play . . .’ he said in a low voice.

It was like asking the ladies to leave the room before the men pulled out their revolvers and Bell could only shrug feebly in reply, for the three of them were already halfway down the lawn anyway, heading for the bouncy castle again, their cleared plates on her lap. She knew she should take them to the kitchen and steer well clear of this toxic scene, but her feet wouldn’t move. She had to know how this was going to play out. Like some kind of sadist, she needed to watch the man she wanted get back the woman he wanted.

A cold wind barrelled up the garden, parting the flowers and carrying salt from the sea.

‘You know,’ Emil said, sitting back in his chair, elbows splayed and lacing his fingers together. ‘People think that being in a coma for seven years is the most terrible thing, but actually, there are upsides.’

Bell glanced across at Hanna, her long hair streaming across her face. No filter for one, she thought.

Nina spluttered on her drink. This was her kind of humour. ‘There’s time to think?’